


Ephemera

by Yeehawlix



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: A little though, Artist!Jisung, Coma, Felix is only mentioned, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Jisung is kinda based off on me, M/M, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, alternative universe, barista!minho, jisung is sad, mentions of depression, not much, since it’s a sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeehawlix/pseuds/Yeehawlix
Summary: •ephemeraɪˈfɛm(ə)rə , ɪˈfiːm(ə)rənoun—things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time.Jisung didn’t know how to live until he met Minho.





	Ephemera

Jisung loved art, he really did. The thing was that he couldn’t feel the freedom within it anymore. He couldn’t love himself nor his art, he couldn’t love any of his works. Art seemed like a chore to him now seeing how much he was suffering. The fact that he loathed something that he once treasured and loved so much made him desperate. He hated that the ugly feelings got to him, made his something into nothing. He hated that he lived to see who he is now. 

The feelings that bud inside of him and slowly crawled their way up to his throat making him feel utterly useless didn’t help. All the complements came from one ear and left from another. The kindness of others didn’t seem to matter to him anymore, none of it mattered now that he wasn’t really alive. He was breathing but the feelings, buried deep inside of him had killed his spirit off a long time ago. He wasn’t the person he wanted to be and he didn’t love his first love no more.

Art.

That was his first love’s name. He’d kill to revive those feelings that withered away like a dead rose. But trying wasn’t in his dictionary anymore, he drew but what? Nothing. He drew nothingness— and that he was. He was nothing.  
Even feeling everything made him feel nothing.  
Numbness, not even sadness. Sadness wasn’t even an option anymore, he’d kill to feel that familiar chill in his bones as his hands shook and his eyes watered.   
He’d kill to feel like that again because now all his life consisted of was numbing pain of not being able to feel connected to who he was once. The genius he was praised for.   
But the thing was, he had to paint. Even if it hurt him so much that he didn’t want to look at those darned brushes. He had to do it.  
It was like an addiction he couldn’t get away from the cold and dead hands of the person he once was. Those paint tubes wouldn’t let him go, they wouldn’t let him rest until he painted so much that his eyes could feel nothing but stinging pain. 

He didn’t even notice how it was already 7 in the morning when he finished painting his pain away. Which meant that he had to meet his best-friend, Felix. Who’s more like a caretaker than a best-friend, but it seemed like Felix was just trying to ease his feelings. Even if it didn’t work he was still thankful to his one and only friend. He didn’t think that their friendship would last since Jisung’s condition was getting worse but here they are, after 6 years of friendship they’re still like their old foolish selves just a little older and sadder. 

It didn’t take long for Jisung to decide what to wear since he was already halfway dressed. All he needed was a hoodie to ease the cold that touched his exposed arms.  
The hardest part was deciding whether he should take his sketchbook or not. The art inside it troubled him, hurt him to the brink. So, was it worth it? 

Hint: he ended up taking it anyways. 

 

To be truthful Jisung didn’t mind going out. Seeing the outside was nice, he especially loved winter. It had always made him feel peace. It strangely calmed him down. His favorite part of cold winter days was the cafe down the street. It was rather a small place, that made you feel cozy and comfortable enough to sit and stare out of the window doing nothing. Well, that was what Jisung mostly did.

Nothing extraordinary had ever caught Jisung’s eye in that cafe yet it seemed that today was different. Jisung seemed to notice a boy— or a man most likely, at the counter. He couldn’t find the words to describe him as he was simply breathtaking. Jisung couldn’t believe this man was real, he seemed like an otherworldly creature that seemed too pure to be touched by any sinful human. 

Maybe he found inspiration after all.

 

—

 

Jisung has always been admire-from-afar kind of person so he never tried to talk to Minho, the barista, whose name he had learned a day after he first saw him. Jisung wasn’t interested, he was just intrigued by the latter. Minho seemed to stir something up in him and make him feel confused, he had a happy smile but sad eyes.   
Which confused Jisung more.  
Who was this person that crossed the oceans in his mind while he simply moved to the beat of steady music in the tiny cafe.  
Who was Minho.

Jisung had finally found a purpose, it being finding out who this man with a big soul and sad eyes was. 

 

—

 

The first time he mustered up the courage to talk to Minho he didn’t think that the latter would let the conversation flow so easily and he sure as hell didn’t expect Minho to know his name but somehow, he did.   
He had explained that he heard it from his friend while he was serving them and Jisung took a mental note to remember that Minho was in fact, very attentive. Which wouldn’t be a problem if Jisung wasn’t such a mess.   
But seeing how the conversation was going he didn’t think Minho minded. In fact Minho seemed rather affectionate, which wasn’t weird just... too confusing for Jisung. He never expected to get affection from somebody that made his cheeks heat up on a cold winter day and his heart race in excitement. 

He sure as hell didn’t expect Minho to accept his request to paint him.  
But he did and that had stunned Jisung.   
He wasn’t complaining though, he did want to get close to somebody like Minho, somebody who seemed like layers of paint.   
One layer alone was imperfect but it was still beautiful but as the layers coated each other they created a beautiful harmony. Almost like a dance.   
And Jisung learned that dancing was something Minho was good at.   
It was a cold February night when Jisung was accompanying Minho back home from work. Minho had paused in the middle of the street, he smiled brightly as he heard a violin play.   
He had told Jisung to put his bag down and took his hand in his own, mouthing the words “dance with me” to Jisung before he dragged him into a passionate dance. 

Jisung fell in love all over again but he had learned to love quietly with a loud mind.

 

—

 

Painting Minho was a whole other experience. To say he was playful was an understatement. He was extremely touchy and loved to look at the progress that Jisung had made of the painting. But Jisung didn’t mind, he couldn’t. Not when Minho looked like an angel with that loose white shirt and black pants. Not with those blissful and starry eyes and disheveled hair. 

Minho was the owner of his heart with those cherry lips and personality as strong as the ocean waves during storms.   
It was almost impossible to fall in love with the color that Minho was, he was everything that Jisung’s wasn’t. He was the sun, the starts, the moon, the colors that Jisung never had the heart to paint with.  
He was everything that Jisung’s younger self wished to be.   
Almost like a dream. 

 

That he didn’t want to wake up from.

 

But he did.   
And with tears in his eyes he laid awake. In a hospital bed, alarming beeps making his ears hurt. Mouth dry and breath low. He sat up straight, looking around the room.   
It smelt of fresh chlorine hitting his nose and making it burn. He wanted to scream, so he did. He screamed so hard his lungs hurt and his eyes burst with tears.   
He screamed until he couldn’t anymore because he knew,  
Minho wasn’t real. He was a mere dream that was too good to be true and too pure to be his. Because Jisung was sinful and full of self loathe that build him up and it just couldn’t seem to want to let him go.  
Minho was just a fragment of his anger, he was something he could never have.  
And Jisung was selfish enough to wish for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading!  
> To simply put it, Jisung was in coma all along because of an accident that he had gotten to and he made Minho up in the dream state he was in. When he woke up from that dream Minho was no longer with him because he wasn’t real, and simply a fragment of his imaginatiom.  
> I hope you liked it and I’m sorry for any broken hearts. I was feeling prticaularly angsty so I had to make it a sad ending <3


End file.
